


Garlands

by Lavilicious



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Cake, Emotional Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Trauma, birthday fic, post carry on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 17:36:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19322914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavilicious/pseuds/Lavilicious
Summary: Simon Snows 22nd Birthday though the birthday isn’t as happy.





	Garlands

It’s been some time now since Simon and Penny moved in together. This flat... it became home. Not only to Simon and Penny who actually live here, but also to Baz. The old couch and the mediocre TV. Simon’s bed with the ridiculous sheets (cartoon sheets, or animals).  The _ smell _ . A mix of Simon’s sweet smell and Penny‘s herb- like magic. It has become one of his favorite places on earth.

Right now though, the kitchen that is filled with the sweet smell of cake, is in Baz’s own flat, the one his aunt Fiona gave him. It doesn’t quite feel like home, like his Watford bed or Simon's place, but it’s getting there.

The vampire has to admit that he isn’t the best cook or baker. He always had someone else who did it for him. But it is Simon's birthday; he wanted to do something special.

 

* * *

 

 

Sometimes, Baz isn’t sure how Normals manage their life without magic. How could they move cakes around without damaging them or melting them in the process?. Also, how would they have opened the door when both their hands would be occupied to hold the cake?

It’s lucky that Baz is able to use magic, making the opening of the door a piece of cake. The Vampire let himself in with the spare key Simon gave him for their apartment on their anniversary.

The apartment is decorated in colorful garlands and fairy lights. Since the proposal, Penny is in an astoundingly good mood. Nothing can breaks her out of it. No one’s messing with it as either; she deserves to be happy. Maybe she is also repressing the fact that she will move to America and leave the boys behind here.

“Baz! Heya! Micah is getting Simon ready. You brought cake? Great!” With that, Bunce magics the cake to a spot on the table and puts in a few candles. With a quick twist of words, they burn.

“Okay, okay, okay, nice.”

“That’s okay, Micah — I’m done.” A little on edge, Simon pushes open the door of his room and away from Micah who gave it his best.

Simon looks beautiful anyway (as always). 

He is wearing a white T-shirt and a plaid shirt around his hips with dark jeans (that belong to Baz). Simon is barefoot, critically taking in the colorful decorated room. The dragon wings on his back flutter like he is on edge. 

“I... okay.” With a sigh, he plops down on the couch. 

As Baz sits down carefully next to him, he softly takes Simon’s hand out from his hair which he is pulling again. “Hey, Happy Birthday,  _ Simon.” _

Finally his boyfriend looks at him, gazing into his eyes. Simon’s blue eyes look watery and tired. Dark heavy bags hang under his eyes, showing his tiredness openly.

Las year Simon confesses that he isn’t a big fan of his birthday. It reminds him of his messed up childhood and the mage and Wattford. 

It is unfair.

Lovingly, Basilton brings Simon’s freckleds hHand up to his mouth and kisses it softly. 

“Thank you, really. But I’m just not in the mood.” 

“I get that.” Baz answers in an equally soft tone. “Do you wanna talk about it? Eat it away? You decide.”

“You made cake?”

“Yeah, for the birthday boy.”

“That’s me. I am hungry…”

Not being able to help himself, Baz grins. “Then there’s nothing holding us back. I’ll get a knife and plates.”

A few moments later, all four of them are gathered around their living room table, gobbling, silenced by their hunger, forking cake into their mouths. 

“Damn, this cake isn’t as bad as I imagined, Pitch.” 

“Thank you, Bunce…”

As predicted, Simon is eating a majority of the cake, not muttering a word. 

No one can hold back Penny, not even childhood trauma. The monster that she is, she is able to keep a conversation going, mainly between her, Micah, and Baz. 

“Well, I'll have to take Snow away for a bit.” 

Surprised at the mention of his name, Simon looks up. 

“Huh? What? Where?”

“The park. You should put on shoes.”

Twenty minutes later, Simon is ready, dragon parts hidden and all. 

As soon as they leave the apartment, Baz takes his boyfriend’s hand, who is holding on to it like it’s a lifeline in a horrible storm.

The sun is up and blaring down on the two of them, thus making Baz regret wearing black jeans and a grey shirt. 

“Hey, love, wait a sec. I’m going to put up my hair. It’s burning me, not sure if I’ll survive it.”

During this time of year, the long-haired boy always has a hair tie around his wrist for moments like that. He uses his hair tie to put his dark hair into a messy ponytail.

They continue a little further until they reach a nice quiet place with flowers. 

“I still have something for you.”

“Baz, you don’t have to. Really. It’s already... too much.”

Words hurt more than any fire, Baz already knows. It still hurts every time though.

“Simon, listen. You deserve this. Being celebrated for making it this far.  _ For surviving. _ I know you didn’t chose this. Wings and trauma. I—“

From his dark pants pockets, Baz carefully pulls out a chain with a little pendant. “I want to give you this necklace. It’s a little sword. Like the sword of heirs chooses it’s partner, I choose you. Simon, I choose you, over and over. Whatever happens.”

Floundering for words, Simon lets Baz put on the necklace, still facing each other. 

“Baz— I... Are you sure? Do you still want this?”

“Absolutely.” 

Simon stares at him for a moment, before he mashes his face into Baz’s. Kissing Simon is always an adventure, especially when he is upset. 

“Baz, I love you.”

“I love you too, Simon. Always.”

“And the necklace... I love it... I think. It’s just—always too much. I’m sorry that I can’t be normal around this time.”

“There is nothing to be sorry for. It's not your fault.” These words are so important to the dark-haired boy that he has to clutch on to Simon’s face with his pale hands. 

“You hear me. It's. Not. Your. Fault. You don’t have to apologize for this.”

Hot tears stream over Baz’s hands, so he wipes away the fresh ones with his thumb, softly. 

Exhausted and crying, Simon leans against Baz’s shoulder. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”


End file.
